to the death
by instar
Summary: harry comes face to face with voldemort for the last time... who will win? please read& review and see for yourself...


A/N: this was originally an entry (which didn't get anywhere despite my high hopes ) for the writers duel on , in case uv seen it before! Id quite like to know what u people think so please r/r! thanks muchly ppl!

Thanks, luv instar xxx

THE ULTIMATE DUEL:

Harry knew this moment would come sooner or later. He wished it had been later, but now was, he guessed, as good a time as any. Not that there could really be any good time for this. He stood still, holding his head high as he stood in the Great Hall, the wreckage and the survivors around him, just waiting.

He stood before the Dark Lord, his face blank as he stood there, trying to keep his dignity despite his bloody nose, ripped clothes and his hair – ruffled and sticking up all over the place. He didn't say anything, just waited. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for, he just knew he was waiting and whatever he was waiting for, that moment, would come really soon.

Lord Voldemort watched the boy stood in front of him, not quite understanding how he could stand there so composed, in spite of his ragged appearance. He surveyed Harry with a tedious, long stare, taking in every inch of the boy that could bring about his doom.

It almost made him want to laugh, and in a way – with the little compassion he had left – he pitied the young boy stood before him, stood there without his wand, without his friends, without a hope in the world. The survivors around them didn't move, _Tempus Palus_ had taken care of that. Lights flickered on the walls, and Harry took a step towards Voldemort, taking a breath as he knew that moment he was waiting for had come.

"So, Harry Potter," he said, his hard voice ringing against the walls, and stirring inside the spectators frozen in time.

"Voldemort," Harry replied, his voice cold and yet warm and soft, so as not to echo menacingly round the spacious room. He remained standing still, unmoving and doing nothing beside keep his gaze on the older wizard.

"You think you can defeat me?" Harry stayed still, not moving, just listening. Voldemort walked towards him, and round as he spoke. "Your friends can't help you here, you haven't got your wand, I have mine, and we both know who is the more powerful wizard here. Why don't you just… let me kill you?" Voldemort spat the last few words into Harry's ear, and Harry took his chance.

He lunged at Voldemort, his hands round the white neck, as Voldemort's hands scrabbled against Harry's back, the pair falling to the floor as Harry refused to let up his grip on Voldemort's neck. The struggling stopped, and for a few short seconds Harry thought he'd become the victor. A blinding black light sent him flying into the still figures of Ron and Draco, both staring for eternity at the scene in the middle of the Great Hall. Harry scrambled up, his hands sliding on the blood on a still Ron's robes. He didn't like it. He was lost.

Voldemort stepped closer, and before he could raise his wand again, Harry ran at him, hitting him and kicking the older wizard, trying to gain some sort of non-magical advantage. Voldemort held up his wand to curse Harry, and Harry swung his fist into the Dark Lord's face, sending him reeling to the floor, as Harry crawled over to Ron and Draco's bodies, frantically searching their bodies for their wands, Draco was holding his, and would not let it out a firm grasp, no matter how Harry pulled. He took a second to look behind him, and as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named stirred, Harry had never felt more helpless.

Without a wand, he was nothing. He was just a skinny seventeen year old that had extraordinarily black hair and an unusual scar on his forehead. There was no way he could get rid of Voldemort, one of the most experienced and powerful wizards of the last couple of centuries. Especially without his friends.

He pulled at Ron's robes, searching for his wand as tears blurred his vision.

"Come on… come on Ron where's your wand? I'm sorry I wasn't a good friend, you were the best… please Ron, where's your wand?" The tears were blurring his vision, and he rubbed his eyes on his jumper sleeve, as he searched Ron's pockets. "Help me Ron, please help me!"

Occupied by his searching, the sound of feet behind him went unnoticed, and he whirled round to see Voldemort stood, one of his red eyes turning purple, with his wand pointing at Harry's chest. His breath caught in his throat and Voldemort sneered, looking at Harry, not doing anything, no curses and no spells, just looking.

"You, are, alone. You fight alone, you live alone. Your friends aren't here to help you now are they?"

Harry edged backwards, falling over Ron's body and hearing a sickening snap underneath him. As he moved backwards he saw that he'd just broken Ron's wand, his heart falling as he saw his last chance of a wand disappear before his eyes. He looked up, catching the narrow slits of Voldemort's eyes, and praying that no more tears would fall and betray his weakness.

"NO!" Harry replied hoarsely, shouting quietly. "I am only alone because you made it that way. I have my friends, you did that spell because you were scared of what we could do together."

Voldemort smirked, his thin lips pursing together as he leered at the boy he was looking down upon. His wand remained pointing at Harry's chest, unwavering and sure of it's target.

"I could kill your friends where they lie. I could kill them before they knew what was happening. I could kill you now."

"And you're not killing me. Why not? Kill me Voldemort. Kill me and get it over with." Harry shook as he said this, scared beyond all belief that the dark wizard would take him at his word. But he didn't. For some reason, Voldemort backed away, and toyed with his wand as he waited for Harry to get to his feet. Once standing once more, Harry went running at Voldemort, and grabbed his hands, wrestling the wizard's weak arms so his wand fell to the floor.

It was the opportunity Harry needed, and they were both on the floor in seconds, reaching for the wand that would grant the winner the victory in the duel. Which is why Harry convulsed in terror when Voldemort rose, his wand having flown straight into his hands.

"You're so weak Harry Potter. To think they said you'd be able to defeat me… ME! Lord Voldemort. What'll they be saying in the morning Harry?" Harry didn't reply. "Harry? They won't be saying anything will they? Because they'll be dead." Harry remained silent, staring defiantly ahead, but trembling inside, his heart racing a hundred miles a minute as his eyes looked beyond Voldemort's head. "ANSWER ME. _Imperio_," Harry felt a feeling of helplessness overcome him, and he was so tempted just to let the Dark Lord do what he wanted, kill him and everyone else he cared about.

But he wouldn't let him, he would fight, even if the fight was worthless.

"I don't want them to die," he growled, fighting off the curse that was weighing heavy on his mind.

"Of course you don't want them to die, but they will, won't they Harry? They'll all die, and guess what? It's all your fault." He paused between each word in the last sentence, and Harry shuddered, wishing there was some other way. He leant forwards and reached for Voldemort's wand, but it was easily tugged out of his way and he was left as before; with nothing. "Fine, if you wont try…" He looked round, and found one of the unmoving watchers. "_Avada Kedavra._" A flash of green light blinded Harry as he finally gathered which one of the people it had been aimed at.

"Ginny!" he moaned, tears striking his cheeks mercilessly.

"The others will follow if you don't let me kill you now."

"You could kill me now, but you aren't. Why aren't you killing me Tom Riddle? Are you scared?" Harry mumbled, having no idea what it was he was saying, just making it up as he went along. Voldemort said nothing. "You're scared, you're nothing better than a frightened man who wants to have his own way."

Harry turned round and started walking away. He heard feet behind him, slow but clear, but he didn't look back, not knowing what to do.

"Look at me Harry Potter," Voldemort called out, his voice echoing round the great hall, full of people yet silent. Harry stopped. "Turn round and face me like a man."

Harry did what he said, and was instantly hit by the Cruciatus curse, his every muscle contorted in pain, and his fingers digging so deep into his palms they bled. His knees pulled up to his chest, and he called out in pain, as Voldemort watched the boy suffer. Watching his enemy contorted in pain gave him a kind of pleasure, which he rarely gained from making random muggleborns and half-bloods suffer.

He held the curse off for a few minutes, giving Harry a chance to relax, and attempt to climb to his feet before collapsing again to the floor, his head closing in upon his mind and every part of his body twitching painfully as the curse took over his body and mind.

"STOP!" he called out, tears streaming down his cheeks and blood dripping slowly from his fingertips. Voldemort held his wand up, stopping the curse, as Harry lifted himself onto his hands and knees, teary, bloody and his mind screaming at him to give it up at the same time his heart screamed at him to fight.

"Stop? Why should I stop?"

"Because…" Harry was at a loss at what to say, what reason to give for Voldemort sparing his life. "Because it hurts," he mumbled, so the Dark Lord had to strain to hear what he said.

"But _Harry_, do I care if it hurts?"

"No," Harry shook his head and Voldemort nodded, saying well done as he towered above Harry. "Please… you killed Ginny."

"Yes, I did. I could kill you now, I will kill you," Harry asked when, wanting it to be over and done with, maybe he could see his parents again? Maybe it would stop him hurting. "Because I want you to suffer more first. I want you to see what I went through when I tried to kill you when you were one year old. It hurt, and you will hurt. _Crucio_."

Harry gave up the pretence and screamed straight away, his mind exploding and the world spinning around him; all of the still spectators seemed to be watching him, their eyes all lay upon him, watching, staring, just letting him die. Was he dying? He didn't know, but he imagined that this was very much what dying would be like, full of pain and full of anguish. He had never imagined himself being alone though. He was alone, his friends weren't there, they were frozen in time a world away and yet right there all at the same time.

That hurt, that Ron was just lying there, his wand discarded in the fight against Malfoy, Hermione was stood with her wand at the throat of a Death Eater, and Ginny lying, dead on the floor. She would never again laugh and shake her pretty hair, or smile at him coyly across the common room in Gryffindor Tower.

That is, if there would be a Gryffindor Tower left to sit in.

There was a pause as Voldemort asked what Harry was thinking, was he wishing death upon himself yet?

"Nnnnn, no," Harry murmured and was astonished at how slurred his speech became, his mouth now incapable of producing the right sounds. He couldn't even raise himself to brace himself for the curse that Voldemort flung at him, sending him once more into mind-numbing agony, splitting his body and he called out, for help, and for it to stop. "Please, let it finish now," he mumbled, curled up in an unsuccessful attempt to get the pain away.

The last thing he remembered was Voldemort telling him he might just get his wish.

A/N: my take on the final duel. Prob not the expected outcome, but I thought it made for more drama. Very exciting! Please r/r!!! xxxx


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